


the greatest gift

by winterbitch (WinterLadyy)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst, Belonging, Bucky Barnes Feels, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Protective Tony Stark, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Self-Hatred, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 03:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18770557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterLadyy/pseuds/winterbitch
Summary: Bucky remembers. Not everything, but enough to safely live in the Tower and be an Avenger. He's doing good. Great actually, getting used to the 21st century and free will and living amongst people.There's only one small issue - his wings. His wings, which had been taken by HYDRA and remade into something else, monstrosities strapped to his back. They don't feel like they're his anymore, so he doesn't use them. And it's fine. It totally is. Only it isn't.And Tony seems to notice that, and even more, he seems to be eager to help. Bucky's not really opposed. Actually, he's totally in.  That's how it begins - Bucky's journey to accept his wings, accept himself as a whole and maybe find love along the way.The road is hard, but Bucky's determined to make it. After all, Tony gave him an amazing gift, and you don't waste those.





	the greatest gift

**Author's Note:**

> this is an idea that just popped into my head and wouldn't get out. people got excited so i wrote it. some angst, but really, more of self-acceptance and loving your wings.
> 
> because i love wings.

He doesn’t remember everything, but he remembers how his wings used to look like.

They were brown, with golden and blue specks, sleek and long perfect for sharp turns that helped him charm the ladies. They were soft and perfect for wrapping Steve in them during cold nights, the blonde’s own golden, small wings tucked inside.

Bucky remembers loving his wings fiercely, preening them regularly, being proud of them, even during the war. They turned out to be perfect for a sniper, silent and deadly, allowing him to leave unnoticed. 

He also remembers getting a bullet to one joint and then falling from the train, the most terrifying experience of his life. He remembers the pain of the impact, ache in his wings and then darkness.

What followed that he wishes he could forget. It’s impossible though because each time he looks into the mirror he remembers what they’ve done to his wings. Remembers HYDRA taking them apart, cutting his feathers, pumping chemicals through them and making him perform in pain, just to see what would happen.

It’s strange, coming into the Tower and seeing all those people who cherish their wings, as broken and different as they are, while Bucky can’t even look at his without wanting to throw up. 

No one really seems to notice, but Bucky catches Steve looking sometimes, pity in his eyes as he probably thinks about Bucky’s colourful, sleek wings that are long gone. Instead, he has those monstrosities, mangled and made to suit the Winter Soldier instead of James Barnes.

Pure black (perfect for blending into the shadows and night missions), long and flexible (sharp turns, bursts of speed for escape or chase), but big and sturdy (long distance flight, powerful weapons if needed) and yet somehow silent as an owl (stealth missions, a ghost story). They’re probably the most efficient wings on earth but Bucky hates them. Hates how HYDRA took something so precious and sacred and made them  _ theirs,  _ the scars always reminding him of the pain.

Bucky never allows anyone to touch them, but it’s an instinct - every touch was always pain and a new scar added to the collection. He keeps them close to his body, pressed against his back and dragging along the floor because of the length, usually stands half in the shadows to forget they even exist.

It’s not the metal arm that haunts Bucky’s nightmares, it’s the wings.

He knows he should talk to someone, to his therapist or to the team even. They’re all a bit broken - Steve with wings that suddenly grew and become hard to control, majestic but slightly chunky, more flapping around than gracefully flying, Natalia’s white ones with splatters of red that look like blood and make them look slightly disturbing, Clint Barton’s broken feathers from field work, Bruce Banner who’s slowly starting to accept the green tint all over his grey and brown feathers.

And of course, Tony Stark who had his wings taken away. Bucky doesn’t know how the man can just move on, grieve of course, but continue living, flying another, genius way. Everyone knows why the Iron Man suit is golden and red - an obvious bow towards Tony’s natural wings.

All in all, they’re all a bit broken, a bit not okay, and yet Bucky can't find it in himself to actually speak up, explain why he hates his wings so much. Because how he can explain that his wings don’t feel like they belong to him? They’re all HYDRA’s, the organization haunting him even after he escaped. He still wakes up with nightmares and they know it, but they don’t know how he escapes to the bathroom and tugs at his feathers, brings the pain now to forget the pain that used to be.

Bucky knows that they don’t know. Maybe Natalia has an inkling, but nothing concrete and even Jarvis can’t help them, because bathrooms are not monitored. Steve thinks he’s making progress, and he  _ is,  _ in some ways. Each day it’s easier to smile and joke around, snipe at Sam and Clint, playfully fight with Steve, relax during movie nights.

James is making progress, just not in that one, enormous area - his wings.

He uses them during missions of course. As a weapon, the feathers sharpening during fights, as a cover when the wind or sand blows, as balance. What he doesn’t do, is fly. 

There’s a certain freedom in flight, in allowing the wind to rush through your feathers, and Bucky just can't find it in himself to do it. How can he brush against that freedom when HYDRA’s creations are what is bringing it to him? He just can’t.

That doesn't mean he avoids hights. He enjoys sitting on the roof of the Tower, legs dangling from the edge, the sun setting in front of him, gleaming from the high buildings of the city. It's a beautiful sight, really, and Bucky really really wants to enjoy it. It’s hard, though, because the sky beacons him, and yet his wings are what is holding him back. Talk about irony.

This is exactly how Tony finds him, flying in his suit, and hovering just in front of Bucky, before holding his faceplate up.

“Hi there, Winter Crow, care for a flight?” he asks lightly, a small smirk on his face and warmth in his eyes. Bucky’s still floored by how welcoming the man is, how forgiving and strong.

“Not really in the mood,” Bucky shrugs, trying to act as if it’s not a big deal, as if he’s not itching to take off.

“Sure.”

With that, Tony lands next to him and leaves the suit to sit next to him, fearless, leaning against Bucy’s side but not touching his folded wings. Bucky is glad.

“So, what’s up? Enjoying the beauty of New York?”

Bucky laughs freely. “A bit,” he admits. “Though it’s hardly the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen. You wouldn't believe some of the sights the war had. And later… I’m not saying it’s a redeeming quality or anything, but I’ve seen my fair share of beautiful sunsets during my years as HYDRA’s plaything.”

It’s startling, how easy it is now to talk about his time in captivity. Remembering the beautiful parts helps, allows him to reclaim some of it, some moments that were just him. 

“Hmm, I'm not surprised. The world has some magnificent sunsets to offer,” Tony agrees with a soft smile. Bucky likes that look on his face. “So just taking a break?”

He smiles sheepishly and shrugs. “A bit, yeah. I love the Tower but sometimes it’s a bit...much.”

“I get that,” Tony sais easily. “That’s why I have my workshop. A small break. I love people but well… As you said, it can be a bit much sometimes.”

Bucky isn’t surprised. It’s easy to get overwhelmed when you were alone for such a long time, and he’s sure they all need those breaks. They’re all warriors that used to walk the Earth alone, and having a family is...something else.

“I also love to fly to cool down,” Tony continues conversationally. “You know, fresh air and all of that.”

He looks down and sighs, clenching his new, sleek, black vibranium arm. He wants to experience that, but sometimes it’s so...hard.

“Want to try?” the genius asks suddenly and then continues soothingly. “Not now, obviously, but we can drive somewhere secluded and just...fly a bit, you know.”

Tony is almost shy when he offers that and Bucky feels a small smile forming on his face. It still sounds...terrifying and weird and his wings twitch, but maybe…

“Maybe one day,” he agrees quietly. “I’d like that Tony, thank you.”

Tony sends him a small smile and turns back to look at New York. When he speaks, it sounds almost random, but Bucky knows it isn’t. “You know, it took me a long time to have fun during flying again. After I lost my wings, I mean. It was...hard. But I had help, reluctantly, you know, and slowly, I started to do what I did today - fly just for the sake of flying. No missions, no purpose, just flying.”

Tony’s voice is strong and a bit sad, but overall hopefull. It’s incredible, how strong the man is, accepting what happened to him and making the best of a bad situation. Taking back what was stolen from him.

“I haven’t flown like that since before the war,” Bucky mutters involuntarily. He didn’t really mean to say it. “Don’t think I remember how.”

Suddenly, there’s a warm hand on his, squeezing gently. He raises his head to look into Tony's soft, brown eyes. 

“Let me help you remember?” he asks quietly, a secret shared just between the two of them.

“Okay,” Bucky says simply, unable to deny such question. That’s just Tony’s effect on him.

The conversation stops there. They just sit on the top of the Tower and watch the sun setting in silence that neither of them needs to fill. It’s comfortable and quiet and Bucky’s wings don’t hurt for a second.

They don’t get back to that offer for a week, just going about their normal life, a few calls, a few bad guys, a few movie nights and breakfasts together. It’s nice, but that conversation sits in the back of Bucky’s mind and his wings itch more than ever. He finds himself...actually wanting to fly. The hatred and insecurity aside, he wants to regain that part of himself. He took the name back, the Winter Soldier and made it a hero name, with positive comments added. He took the metal arm back, now much better and refined and often used to gently preen Steve’s wings.

Why can’t he take his wings back?

It seems to be enough for Bucky to take that first step and the next time they have some free time, he finds Tony and looks at him with shy determination.

“How about that trip now?” he asks, not letting himself tense. He will not allow HYDRA to rule his life any longer. 

Tony smiles at him brightly and nods, immediately pushing the tools aside. “Sure! J, please save everything and inform the team we’re going on a small trip.”

“Of course, sir. Have fun,” comes the response and Bucky smiles.

“Thanks, Jarvis.”

They change into comfy clothes, Tony takes his suit and they get into the car, with Bucky driving. He knows that Tony usually likes to do it himself, but after seeing that shiny sports car, he just can’t help himself.

During the ride, they don't talk. There's music and the road in front of them and Bucky feels strangely...light. It’s a good feeling.

Tony directs him towards a small patch of man-made hills and trees, with an amazing starting point for a flight. Bucky takes a deep breath and smiles at the other man, still relaxed, even as tension threatens to seep into his muscles. He doesn’t let it and just breathes as they walk up the hill, Tony’s suit held in his suitcase.

When they reach the top, the genius smiles at him encouragingly and steps into the suit, letting it close around him, and takes off, again hovering close to Bucky. He takes a deep breath and comes closer to the edge, knowing that with such a long time since he last flew, he’s going to need to jump off. It’s both terrifying and exciting.

Tony’s faceplate is still up and the other man gives him encouraging a smile, flying a bit higher. “Come on, Elsa, don’t leave me to play by myself,” he chuckles and that’s enough to push Bucky into doing it.

The moment he loses ground from under his feet, muscle memory takes over. His black wings open easily, catching the drift of the wind, and Bucky beats them a few times to gain altitude. He doesn't think, doesn’t tense, doesn’t feel bad, just  _ flies,  _ Tony following him with a laugh.

“You did it!”

Bucky looks down at the ground, now distant, and then back at his wings, spread and almost humming with contentment at finally being used. He gives a smile as well, a small, sheepish, disbelieving one, full of wonder. He did. He did it, he’s still doing it and it actually feels nice, relaxing. Like scratching an itch that’s been bothering him for 70 years.

He lets out a small laugh and flaps his wings, again and again, gaining speed, flying in circles around Tony. The more he flies, the lighter he feels, tension leaving his muscles bit by bit. He still has a long way to go, but it feels like a start. A great one.

Soon enough, Tony starts to chase him, laughter echoing in the sky, sun shining on the suit and gleaming like it’s magic. It feels like magic too, touching the sky again, reclaiming another tiny part of himself like that, this time with someone’s help. With Tony’s help.

Bucky sends Tony a big smile as they land again, light and soundless, his wings folding back gracefully. He can hate them as much as he wants, but they really are a wonder sometimes, soundless and graceful, which is, even more, striking with their size.  From the way Tony is looking at them, he thinks something similar.

“I know you don’t...like them, but I do,” Tony admits quietly, thankfully not making a move to touch them. “They’re really beautiful, James.”

“They’re black,” Bucky croaks, shaken both by the use of his name and the compliment. No one has ever called his black wings beautiful. Not with the scars and…

“I know,” Tony shrugs. “Doesn’t mean they’re ugly. Yeah, they have some scars and they’re maybe not as colourful as some other ones, but they’re still beautiful. They’ve been through a lot, you’ve been through a lot, but you’re a sight of wonder when you’re in the sky.”

The genius seems almost shy after his admission, gentle pink creeping on his cheeks, melting Bucky’s heart a tiny bit. He still doesn’t believe Tony but it feels pretty nice, to hear it all. It gives Bucky courage to say,

“They used to be colourful. Brown with golden and blue. I loved that blue, you know, especially with gold and all. They looked real pretty in the sunlight.”

He refuses to feel ashamed of his words because he did love his wings, he still loves the memory of them. 

“They must've been beautiful,” the genius comments quietly. “The ones you have now… They’re different, yeah, but still pretty. The sunlight still looks pretty on them.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow in surprise and reluctantly unfolds one wing, letting him see. Well yeah, when he stops the negative thoughts it doesn’t look bad. Not as pretty as it used to, but not...terrible. He swallows heavily and shrugs.

“Maybe a bit,” he admits quietly, not really believing he’s saying that.

Tony sends him a bright smile, a soft one and nods. “See? They’re not a hopeless case.”

Bucky chuckles at that, and when they ride back to the Tower, there’s a tiny bit of light in the dark case of his wings. Not a lot, but something. Something to work with.

That night, when Bucky wakes up from nightmares, he doesn’t go to the bathroom. Instead, he orders the lights to 20%, unfurls his wings and slowly starts to preen them. It feels strange, with 70 years of not doing it, but the muscle memory once again kicks in, and Bucky allows himself to relax into it.

It feels strange to take care of his wings like that when he still doesn’t feel like they’re  _ his  _ exactly, but it’s not a bad strange. Truthfully, something in him settles when he finishes with one wing, starting to work at the other like he’s finally doing something wrong.

By the time sun rises, his bed is a mess of black feathers, but Bucky falls back asleep, wings spread on the sheets, face relaxed. 

It’s the first time he falls asleep after a nightmare.

After that night, it somehow becomes easier to use his wings. He allows them to twitch when he’s displeased and ruffle when Steve’s being a dumbass. They’re more relaxed now, during the movie nights. Bucky sprawls himself across the beanbag and spreads his wings slightly so that he can comfortably lay on them.

Everyone subtly makes sure they don’t touch them, but it still feels like a huge step. Tony sends him a big, proud smile, which Bucky answers with a smirk on his own. He has someone in his corner.

They still take trips to that place, a few times a week if they can, and slowly Bucky grows more and more comfortable just playing. No purpose, no danger, just him and Tony chasing each other like kids, laughing and trying to ruin each other’s landings. It doesn’t feel strange, that Tony’s wings are his suit, that there are no feathers there.

For Bucky, it just feels natural. Nice and comfortable and fun. It’s a direct oppositive of what his wings were meant to be, and it feels fucking amazing, taking them away from HYDRA, bit by bit. 

It’s a hard-won process, but Bucky is proud of himself when he’s standing on top of the Tower again and waiting for Tony to arrive.

As always, the genius does it in style, setting sun shining against his armour as he hovers in front of Bucky.

“What’s up, Snowman?” he asks, faceplate up as always, a shit-eating grin on his face. It says something that Bucky’s only reaction is a fond eye-roll. He’s so gone on this man already, he doesn’t even need to think about it. It just is like that.

“Let's go, loser, we’re going flyin’” he informs Tony with a cackle and then jumps from the Tower.

Tony shouts something at him, but Bucky just opens his wings and  _ soars  _ above New York, eyes wide with awe. He did it. He’s doing it. 

He turns his head to smirk at the shocked genius and beckons him closer. “Well, come on, Tin Man, you said something about a race around New York?”

“Oh, you’re  _ on,”  _ Tony mutters darkly, before shooting forward.

Bucky chases him with a laugh, wings beating and twisting and sliding easily, allowing him to manoeuvre with as much grace and speed as Tony, cutting corners in ways Steve would only dream about.

Some people look up at them, a red blur and a dark shape with black wings, but Bucky really doesn’t care. They’re laughing like idiots, tumbling together from time to time, not really racing but having fun, just like out there, in the middle of nowhere. 

Here, in the city, there are more challenges and that part of Bucky Barnes that lived for it, perks up. He pushes himself, finally really checking what he can do, spiralling up and down, before folding his wings close to his body and allowing himself to  _ fall. _

There’s no fear in him, no bad memories, just the wind in his ears, the smell of New York and the sun shining off of Tony’s armour. It’s exhilarating and amazing and everything he had been missing for years and years.

Bucky lets his wings catch him in the last moment, hand brushing against a building as he does so, easy as anything. In that small moment, shooting through New York with Tony, he loves his wings more than he’s ever loved them before. They’re his now. And he takes care of things that are his.

He starts to regularly preen them, making sure nothing is wrong. He starts to actually express himself with them more clearly, allowing them to ruffle and spread when he’s angry, drop and relax when he’s happy. One memorable time is when Tony stumbles into the kitchen in the morning, flushed from sleep, with a massive case of bedhead, wearing rumpled clothes and rubbing his eyes. He’s absolutely adorable.

Bucky’s eyes go wide and then he feels his wings just...poof up, feathers ruffling slightly until he resembles a fluffy snow owl. Natalia stifles a chuckle and he can  _ feel  _ Steve’s stare at the back of his head, but Tony, bless his soul, doesn’t notice anything. He tries to get it under control.

He fails miserably.

No one touches them still, but Bucky’s pretty happy about it because he’s not there yet. Touching, after so many traumatic memories with them, is something he still has to work up to, but he’s okay with that. Progress takes time. Change doesn’t happen overnight.

It all comes down during one of their fights. It’s nothing special, just another average villain with his average if annoying robots. All is going well until the average guy uses some form of a signal, and Tony’s suit suddenly flashes and then goes dark. Tony drops from the sky.

When he sees Tony falling, it’s an instinct. He takes out the last 3 robots around him and then takes off from the roof, wings immediately catching the wind. It’s less than 2 seconds to reach Tony and catch him firmly, the suit digging into his skin.

“Got ya,” he quips with a small smile, heart hammering in his chest.

“Thanks,” is Tony’s answer a bit breathless and a bit awed.

Bucky only smiles and uses his free hand to clear their path, before landing softly, settling Tony on the ground. The genius lets the suit fall apart around him and then Bucky just wraps his arms around him, wings following immediately. He doesn’t think about it, doesn’t tense, just wraps Tony safely in his wings and breathes for a second.

“You scared the shit outta me,” he admits, face pushed into Tony’s fluffy hair.

The other man just sighs and relaxes against him, grabbing his shoulders lightly. “Sorry, Winter Crow, I’ll do better next time.”

Bucky chuckles, eyes closed, trusting their teammates to keep them safe for a while. 

“It’s fine, doll, I’ll catch you every time,” he promises with a wing and releases the dumbfounded genius from his hold. “Kep cover, we’ll finish this soon.”

With that, he takes off, not even thinking about what he’s doing, just knowing he needs to be high to get a good shot. The team glances at him briefly, surprise flashing in Steve’s eyes, but soon they’re back in the fight, ending it in less than 15 minutes.

It only registers to Bucky when he lands again, and Steve squeezes his shoulder, smiling softly.

“Glad you’re back with us, Buck,” he mutters and dashes off, to helo civilians, leaving Bucky stunned by what he just did.

It doesn’t feel...bad. No, it actually feels pretty damn good and he feels a smile spreading on his face, wings still half-spread. It feels amazing.

“Gear job out there, James,” Tony says with a small smile, coming closer and Bucky smiles back and wraps one wing around him.

Neither of them tenses, their smiles just grow bigger and Tony leans against his side. “You did it,” the genius whispers, another secret shared between them.

“Only with your help,” Bucky replies just as quietly, fondness colouring his voice. Now he’s certain of what Tony means to him. Simply put - everything.

That revelation also feels good. What also feels good, is allowing other people to touch his wings. Small things that always leave Bucky both cackling and smiling softly.

The first time he uses his wing to push Steve away when he’s being a mother hen, his best friend is too stunned to even go after him and Bucky asks for a picture of his face later, when he’s sitting in his room with Jarvis as his company. He prints it and pins it to the fridge. Steve is livid but too happy to even complain to Bucky about it.

He uses his wings to stead Bruce when he stumbles sometimes, to pull Natalia to his side when they’re watching the city together, to subtly push Clint when they’re doing a competition and, his greatest achievement, to directly smack Sam in the face when’s he’s being a little shit.

Sam makes a move to grab his wing, but then freezes, unsure and Bucky uses that moment to smack him again, point blank, and escape, a loud “Fucker!” chasing him. 

The biggest difference is Tony.

Bucky shamelessly uses his wings to pull the genius from his work when he needs to, cuddling him in then and cutting off his escape, wraps one whenever the genius stands close to him, generally is gentle and soft with Tony.

He knows that others notice, but Tony just leans into every touch with a smile, even if he’s exasperated. It’s a bit like taking care of a boyfriend. Bucky loves it.

That’s also why, the next time he needs to preen his wings, he comes to the workshop and swallows, nervous. His wings flutter just a tiny bit, another sight of nerves, and it’s enough to make Tony look up from whatever he’s doing.

“What’s up, Winter Wonderland?” he asks lightly, giving Bucky his full attention.

Bucky takes a deep breath and smiles at the wonderful man in front of him. “I need to preen my wings,” he says carefully. “Would you like to help?”

He knows full well what he’s proposing, the level of trust and affection it requires and judging by Tony’s blush and stunned expression, he also does. The other man is silent for a while, so Bucky lets him think about it. He knows it’s much, he knows it may change their entire relationship, but it feels right. There’s no one else he’d rather ask right now. Steve’s still not quite there yet.

Finally, Tony takes a deep breath and smiles, as if he doesn’t believe this is happening. “I would be honoured,” he replies quietly, hands shaking slightly in nerves.

Bucky steps closer, grabs them in his own, finally comfortable with his metal one, and squeezes. “Relax, Antoshka,” he mutters fondly. “I trust you.”

“Y-yeah,” Tony stutters, blush returning full force. “I-Just… It’s been a while since I preened any wings,” he explains, uncharacteristically nervous.

Bucky feels his heart melt and he sends the man an encouraging smile. “I assure you, not as big of a while as mine before I did it again recently. I was fine. You’ll be fine too, with hands like that…”

He fights down a blush and refuses to back down from what he said. They’ve been flirting for a while now, and he feels like this preening session will bring them to a new level. To something more concrete.

Tony smiles at him, still nervous and then gestures towards the entrance. 

“Well, I trust you too, so let’s go!”

The enthusiasm isn’t fake, for all Tony's nervous, so Bucky lays a gentle hand on his lower back and leads him to his room. It’s dark but cosy, with fluffy carpet and soft bed, a beanbag in front of the window. His bed is a mess of blankets and some stray feathers but it makes Tony smile, so Bucky doesn’t worry about it.

“Beanbag or bed?” he asks lightly, pulling off his shirt easily. Yes, he’s covered in scars, but they all are. Training at the gym quickly rid him of shame because of them. 

Tony stares at him for a long while in silence, before shaking his head and smiling. “Bed is higher,” he mutters, glancing at it. “And your wings are big.”

Bucky preens inwardly at that, before sitting cross-legged on the blanket, his back to the bed. Ge feels Tony's warmth at his back, strong legs framing his shoulders and then spreads his wings, allowing Tony to see them all.

It feels amazingly intimate, a silent, precious moment between them. When Tony delicately touches his left wing, Bucky shudders but nothing in him tenses. If anything, he relaxes, even more, closing his eyes, trusting Tony to keep them safe. That kind of trust doesn’t come easily, but Tony earned it, several times over.

Tony’s hands shake on his wings, but Bucky just takes deep breaths and relaxes, wings dropping slightly. They shudder and twitch under Tony’s hands but it’s out of pleasure and not stress and Tony has to know this because he keeps going.

Feathers start to fall on the floor, surrounding them in a small circle and Bucky starts to play with them, marvelling just how much has changed over the last few months. How much his feelings towards his wings have changed. It’s a good change, one that leaves him feeling light and happy and complete, for the first time in years.

They’re completely silent during the process, just a small ruffle of feathers and faint sounds of their teammates in the living room. It’s domestic.

Bucky’s wings are big, so it takes some time, but after almost 2 hours, they’re done. Tony doesn't complain even once that his hands hurt, and that must be because he’s used to working with them for long hours. When he’s finished, Bucky feels like a relaxed pile of feathers and twitching muscles, breathing deep and slow, eyes closed.

“Done,” Tony whispers, unwilling to break the precious web of silence surrounding them. Bucky nods and finally turns around, flexing his wings a bit to check how they feel. It’s amazing. Nothing pulls or aches and finally, his whole wings are preened and looking...pretty great actually. Even the feathers that usually drag on the ground.

“Thank you,” he mutters back, looking Tony straight in the eyes.

The genius doesn’t avoid his gaze, eyes looking like warm chocolate, gentle and full of the same soft emotion that’s filling Bucky’s chest right now. 

It feels like just the right moment. There’s no backing down now.

Bucky leans closer to him, heart hammering in his chest, and finally presses his lips against Tony’s, kissing him softly. The genius freezes completely for a second, and Bucky almost starts to panic, but then he responds, falling into the kiss with enthusiasm that sends them sprawling on the floor, Tony on top of him.

This is their first kiss, on an ordinary day, with some sun shining through dirty windows, on his ordinary floor where the most extraordinary thing happened.

They laugh into each other’s mouth, little undignified guffaws, before kissing, again and again, Tony's rough hands framing Bucky’s face, his arms wrapped securely around the other man. He lays completely down, pulling Tony with him, and wraps him in his wings, safe and secure and warm, closing them in a cocoon of darkness. Tony moans into his mouth softly, wiggling slightly to brush against the insides of his wings, and Bucky shudders happily.

His fings flutter happily, a small movement that Tony clearly feels because he smiles against Bucky’s mouth.

“Didn’t expect this, getting up this morning,” Tony mutters breathlessly.

“This morning you were still up in the workshop after pulling another all-nighter, you dirty liar,” Bucky accuses, voice fond.

“You know me so well, darling,” Tony croons and they dissolve into laughter again.

All in all, not many things change. They start to cuddle during movie nights, and other nights as well, Bucky now kisses Tony whenever he comes into the workshop, starts calling him “doll” and “kitten” and any other pet name that comes to his mind and they’re happy. 

Tony can’t ask him to preen his wings, but one day he when Bucky visit him in the workshop, Tony’s waiting for him, smiling gently. The Iron Man suit is out, probably waiting for tweaks and repairs, but it's nothing unusual.

What is unusual, is Tony tugging him closer and wrapping his arms around his neck, still smiling. “Would you like to help me with repairs, sweetheart?” he asks sweetly, fully knowing what he’s offering.

The suit is Tony’s wings. It keeps him safe and almost untouchable and it’s his most vulnerable point if in wrong hands. Tony is trusting Bucky with it, literally putting his life in his hands. Tony is giving him a way to preen his wings, in that unique way of his. Bucky just stares at him for a few seconds, before smiling, metal hand coming up to cup his face.

“I’d be honoured,” he replies, referencing how their last talk like that went. 

He still can’t believe it, working under Tony’s commands, tweaking and repairing, soaking up knowledge like a sponge.

“Gotta say, babe, I’m surprised with how well you’re doing,” Tony drawls from his work, looking at him and smiling.

Bucky shrugs sheepishly. “HYDRA needed me obedient but not stupid. I usually got only one debriefing, sometimes for a few months long missions. I was always pretty smart I guess, but college was too expensive and I had to work. I think that now, after 70 years of missions and nothing else my brain is desperate for any knowledge, so I just take it in easier. ‘Sides, it’s not like it’s quantum physics.”

Tony stares at him for a few seconds, thinking it over before shaking his head.

“It’s tragic but also kind of hot, how you just  _ get _ it. Keep it up, snowflake.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but sends Tony a fond smile. For all their laughter, it’s still a profound moment. Not as stilled or unknown as preening of Bucky’s wings, but just as important. It’s Tony’s way of showing the unconditional trust he has in Bucky. It’s also almost enough to make him cry because, after everything he’s done, he never felt worthy of such trust. But it’s Tony’s decision, and all Bucky can be is grateful, for having such a wonderful man in his life.

The next time they’re out fighting, each time Bucky sees Tony fly, it sends a surge of warmth through his chest. This is something he helped to repair. This is Tony’s wings, coming together under his touch. It’s a powerful feeling.

Then, one day he enters the workshop, and Tony's there, shifting and looking around. After those months, Bucky because good at reading his boyfriend, so he instantly knows that something is wrong, that Tony is nervous. He comes closer and gently lays his hands over his forearms, squeezing.

“What’s wrong, doll?” he asks gently, trying to catch Tony’s gaze.

“Okay so, um, over the last few weeks I’ve been working on...something,” Tony starts to explain, stumbling over his words. “It’s a good thing! I think. Um, so I know that you’re like, okay with your wings now, you’re amazing actually, but I’ve been thinking do you maybe… If you had a chance, would you want to temporarily add some colour to them? Dye them.”

Bucky is stunned silent. He’s never really thought about it. Sure, there are dyes out there, but for lighter colours and black isn’t one to take dye easily, so he just...didn’t think about it. Now though, with Tony staring up at him with nervous, hopeful eyes, he feels like Tony did actually think about it. And did something about it.

“Maybe?” he answers with a question, shrugging. His wings twitch slightly, unsure. “Not permanently, I don't think so, but for a while? Few days? Why not.”

Tony lights up instantly and presses a small kiss to his nose, standing on his tiptoes. “Great! Because I was working on it and I actually made a dye that will work on your feathers. Not white, of course, but other than that? It’s a free game.”

Bucky lets out a deep, disbelieving sigh and pulls Tony into his arms and wings, kissing him deeply. Tony melts into the kiss instantly, arms wrapping around Bucky’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

“You’re wonderful, Tony Stark,” he mutters against his lips, eyes still closed. “The most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He feels the warmth of Tony’s blush against his neck when his boyfriend hides his face there, but he also feels his pleased smile. Bucky is the luckiest man in the world.

It’s Steve who he asks to put the dye in his wings, just some gold accents to match his wings. His best friend looks ready to cry so Bucky calls him a punk and punches his shoulder to avoid waterworks.

“You’re still an asshole,” Steve tells him, voice fond. It's clear how happy he is that Bucky's getting better, that he’s doing things with his wings, allowing Steve to touch them. 

Bucky knows that it’s all thanks to Tony.

The feather dye is a hit. Everyone says he looks amazing and the gold gleams off of his feathers, making him smile. Yes, he likes his black wings, but some colour is nice. Keeps things interesting.

It’s the dye fading that gives him an idea. Bucky thinks it looks great, faded like that, but for his idea, it won’t work. And his idea will be a lot of work even without the fading dye.

One of the things he remembers from his childhood is his Ma telling him about an old Romanian tradition amongst the poor people. She liked to tell him how people would collect their feathers, the small fluffy ones, and stitch them into blankets, scars and coats. It was both practical against the cold, and a token of affection - a piece made with one’s feathers, one of the most precious things smallfolk owned. A way to always be there for your beloved.

While Bucky doesn't think that a coat or scarf is a good idea, with his lack of stitching skills, a blanket is a wonderful one. Luck is on his side because he loses feathers rather frequently, even more during preening and molting season and he’s sure he’ll have enough to complete a big blanket. Tony has a habit of falling asleep in his workshop, so it would be an amazing gift.

What’s even a better idea, is finding a way to permanently dye some of his fallen feathers into Iron Man colours, so that Tony has some of his old feathers back, in one way or another. Bucky knows that Tony is at peace with his missing wings, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss them still. They talked about it, and now he has a way to bring some of them back.

After consulting YouTube stitching tutorials and finding a good shape for a blanket, all that’s left is finding Dr Bruce Banner for some help.

He finds the man in the common area, tucked into the corner with a book and smiles at him, before sitting down next to him. They don’t talk often, but they have a tradition of watching the sunrise after a bad night, drinking of Bruce’s amazing teas. He’s confident that he can ask for help.

“Hey there, Bruce,” he says quietly, some plead probably already in his eyes because the scientist puts his book down and looks at him. “Listen, I had this idea. You know how Tony created feather dye for my feathers and all? I’ve been thinking about making him a blanket with my feathers, and well, it would be great to dye some of them permanently, with Iron Man colours.”

He’s blushing by the end because Bruce is smiling smugly. “You’re so smitten with him,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I can help, sure, but it won’t be easy. Feathers aren’t really great at taking colour.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky mutters, looking at his faded blue feathers. “But it’s possible, right? If you can give me a crash course in chemistry and all, some books maybe or papers, I’ll be golden.”

“You’re confident,” Bruce raises an eyebrow. “But sure, I’ll even help you a bit. It’s a nice idea.”

His own, green tinted feathers ruffle, still wrapped around the man’s shoulders. Bucky smiles at him gratefully and it’s not long after that they get to work.

Between missions and spending time with Tony, he’s still left with a lot of free time, that he intends to use wisely. He sits in Bruce’s lab and listens to the man talk. He’s a great teacher, all in all, patient and calm, even if he sometimes gets lost in his own head and Bucky has to ask Jarvis to explain scientific names. He likes it. Likes knowledge, spending time with one of the brightest minds of this generation, likes the vibe of the lab. It’s chaotic in a weirdly calm way.

Knowledge is fun. He doesn’t do many experiments, not yet, but he reads and listens and probably does it in the wrong way, starting from advanced chemistry, but he has Jarvis (sworn to secrecy) to help and it’s going well.

Tony’s none the wiser, the man can be amazingly oblivious, but he’s sure Natalia knows. She sends him little smirks and makes fun of how much he obviously loves Tony, but seems happy for him.

He paints lopsided red roses on her wings, to match the blood splatters and she spends a fair amount of time watching them in the mirror. After that, Bucky notices her tracing the red on her wings, thoughtful look on her face.

He gives Clint wing oil that smells like Fruit Loops (the man is an absolute child) and chuckles when he comes to breakfast smelling like candy but with shiny, flexible wings.

He also recruits Clint to finally teach Steve how to use his wings.

“Punk, you flail around like blind chicken stuck in a burning trashcan. You’re ruining our reputation. There are videos out there, of you flapping around like an idiot,” he tells Steve, taking great joy in showing them to his best friend and cry laughing while Steve blushes madly.

Together with Clint, they start teaching Steve how to get around. It’s clear that Steve never really worked with his new wings, he’s awkward and clumsy and knocks things over constantly.

“You’re like a ballerina when you right, Rogers, what is this shit?” he asks, exasperated when he comes to the kitchen and there are things broken everywhere, and Steve’s wings are covered in weird things.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up, wings flaring out again and smacking against the cabinets. Bucky only gives him a pointed look. “I just...They’re big.”

“You’re big all over, Stevie, this ain’t new,” he drawls, enjoying how it makes his best friend blush furiously. “It’s no excuse to do  _ this.  _ I’ve seen more graceful penguins and they’re basically walking potatoes on land. We gotta work on that.”

They do. Natalia visits them and makes fun of Steve, but helps. Tony pops in from time to time, whenever Jarvis alerts him that Steve’s about to do something especially clumsy. 

On one memorable occasion, he even sits down with Hulk after a mission and lets him clumsily but gently pat his wings. It’s good that Bucky’s wings are so durable, as Hulk is very very strong, but it’s not painful, just slightly awkward. It’s also totally worth it to see Hulk smile like that, muttering “pretty birdy” under his nose. 

His relationship with Tony flourishes. They cuddle constantly, eat dinners in the workshop, go to their secret place to fly, chase each other around New York. 

During Pride, Bucky paints his wings in bisexual flag colours, ends up all over the internet, and when they fade, he just keeps going through all of the other flags. Usually just half his wings, as a representation and not his own sexuality, but it makes people happy.

It’s absolutely adorable, to see kids around the globe tweet him pictures of them, feathers dyed with Tony’s dye, expressing themselves. Bucky feels like he’s going something good for the people, not just fighting to protect them. He’s part of this century, and it feels amazing. Feeling like he finally belongs.

Through it all, he works on the permanent dye. One side of the blanket is already finished, completely black and looking rather cosy, but the other one is still bare, waiting for the dye to get finished.

Even Dr Cho helps, sending him links and giving him a crash course of wing biology. It’s amazing. It’s everything Bucky ever wanted. Friends, a family actually, a loving boyfriend, learning new things, protecting and caring for those he loves. 

With all that help, Bucky finally manages to create the permanent dye. Well, they manage, him and Bruce, Dr Cho on the video call and Bucky’s so happy he feels like crying.

“Fuck yes!” he shouts, staring at the formula. “Knew we could do it!”

Bruce laughs quietly at that. “It’s been certainly interesting, having you here. You should pop in more often, remind me that human interactions are also important.”

“You got it, doc,” Bucky promises and smiles at both of them. “Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me, your help and support.”

Dr Cho’s blue and green wings flutter happily and the woman smiles at him. “It’s been interesting,” she agrees with Bruce. “And it’s rare that I see someone so dedicated and excited by the process of making something. You certainly deserve Tony.”

He ducks his head and blushes, but smiles. “Thanks,” he mutters, suddenly feeling shy. “I just want him to be happy.”

“It shows,” Bruce speaks up quietly. “Everyone can see that. This is going to be a great gift.”

Bucky nods and takes a deep breath. The hardest part is done, all that’s left is dying and stitching the feathers. He can’t wait.

Making use of his body’s lowered need for sleep, he works through the night, and when the sun is peeking over the horizon, he’s done. The blanket may not be the most sophisticated and perfect gift ever, but it’s warm and cosy and has both of their colours on it. In Bucky’s eyes, it’s perfect.

He just hopes Tony will like it as much because his hands are shaking and his heart is hammering and he’s  _ this  _ close to sweating nervously. He lets Jarvis ride him down to the workshop and works on his breathing.

“Sir is going to love this, Sergeant,” Jarvis speaks up suddenly, voice strangely gentle and caring for an A.I. “You put a lot of work into it, and it’s a gift from the heart. Those are the most precious ones.”

“Thanks, Jarvis,” he speaks through tight throat and steps out of the elevator, the blanket wrapped in colourful paper. It’s now or never, once again.

“Hey, doll!” Bucky calls, entering the workshop. “Spare me a second?”

“For you, always,” Tony coos at him, wiping his oil-covered hands on some rug. “What's up?”

Bucky smiles and gathers all of his courage, before thrusting the gift at Tony. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?” Tony takes the package and squeezes experimentally. It says a lot of the trust between them, that Tony just takes it from him, no questions asked. Although Bucky tinkered on his Iron Man suit, this is much smaller. Still significant, though, and sends a rush of warmth down his spine. “Squishy!”

He laughs and watches in trepidation as Tony tears through the paper. When then feathers are revealed, Tony freezes and looks up at him, so Bucky sends him a smile. “Go on.”

Tony’s hands are shaking when he unravels the blanket, coming face to face with the feathers wearing his colour.

“Wha…?” he chokes out, looking at Bucky desperately. His hand slowly rakes through the feathers, playing with them. There are tears in his eyes, but he doesn’t look sad. Emotion tears, then.

Bucky cups Tony’s face in one hand and smiles, caressing his cheek. “It’s a gift,” he explains softly. “Old Romanian tradition - blankets and scarves made from your own feathers, to keep your beloved warm, give them a piece of you. Those are my feathers. All of them. I just...dyed some of them.”

Now, Tony is fully crying, little sobs leaving him. He wraps himself around Bucky and sobs into his shoulder, blanket clutched in one hand. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you…” he mutters over and over again, tears smearing on Bucky’s skin.

He just gathers his boyfriend in his arms and holds him tightly, pressing small kisses to the top of his head. 

“I’m just slowly giving back what you gave me, love,” he says quietly. “You’re welcome.”

Later, they cuddle in bed under Tony’s new blanket, safe and warm, Bucky's wings wrapped around his boyfriend.

“I can’t believe you learned chemistry to make this for me,” Tony is saying, pressed against him. “That’s… No one ever did something like this for me.”

Bucky just kisses him softly and cleans up the tears. “Well, I’ll make it up to you, for all those years. Give me a chance to.”

“I gave you a chance a long time ago, James,” Tony whispers, looking into his eyes.

“I know. And I can’t thank you enough for it.”

It’s not the end of the permanent dye. Just a few weeks later a gala comes up, one that they all just have to attend. It’s Tony’s idea to use the dye for his costume, and Bucky agrees immediately.

They use synthetic feathers this time, copying Tony’s exact colours and patterns into them so that when he steps into the red carpet, in a sharp black suit, there’s a long cape draped over his shoulders, dragging on the ground. He looks like the king he is, standing proud and high, as people ooh and aah around them.

Bucky’s wearing a simple, all black tux with golden accents, one sleeve gone to show off his arm, wings dyed glittering gold to match. They make a striking image, for sure, but most of the attention is on Tony, who steals over the entire gala.

People ask him to pose, ask questions about the colours and the method and everything, and when Tony explains what Bucky did, there are suddenly people gathering around him, asking for an interview. Tony squeezes his shoulder.

“Why not, sweetheart?” he says quietly. “You certainly have a story to tell.”

In the end, Bucky decides why not. He picks one woman, calm and professional with warm eyes and wings a deep purple. He nods at her and stands straight, wings half-spread, glittering in the flashes of the cameras. He feels confident.

“Sergeant Barnes, your boyfriend just announced that it was actually your idea and work that made this amazing, dazzling cape possible. Would you elaborate?” she asks, pushing the microphone towards him. 

Bucky sends a small smile into the camera and nods. “It’s all because of my Ma, actually. She was half-Romanian and told me about the tradition smallfolk used to have. They would collect their feathers and stitch them into scarves, coats and blankets for their beloved ones so that they would always have a piece of them with them. It seemed, fitting, actually, to make something like this for Tony.”

The woman smiles, already charmed. “That sounds incredibly romantic, but what is the connection between the dye and the gift?”

“Well, I decided that while Tony does amazingly without his wings, he probably wouldn’t mind having some small piece of them back, but the dye he made for me wasn’t permanent. So, I went to Dr Banner and asked for his help, to dye part of my blanket, the gift for Tony, his old colours. It actually worked!” he laughs.

“So the original dye idea isn’t yours? It’s Mr Stark’s? What’s the story behind it?” she asks, curious.

Bucky swallows. He knows that he can tell it, but it’s hard. Yet, there are people out there who deserve to hear it, and so he explains.

“Tony noticed that I didn’t...like my wings colour, so he made a dye for me to try different ones, so have some of it back. A nice change, you could say,” he laughs, but it doesn’t feel right. This is not the story he wants to tell, not the lesson he wants to give now. “Actually no, that’s not exactly how it went.”

He takes a deep breath, looks straight into the camera and begins.

“I used to hate my wings, you know,” he says, aware that thousands upon thousands people are watching. “Before the war, before HYDRA, they looked different and I spend a lot of time, after coming to the Tower, hating those new ones. For many reasons really, but mostly because they didn’t feel like they were mine. They were different from how they used to look and I hated it. It took me some time to come to love them, but I do now. They’re different, yes, but they’re mine, I made them mine, and I love them. The dye was a way to help me, brighten my day a bit, brighten my recovery. It was not an easy journey, it still isn’t. I’m better, yes, but I have my bad days. I get nightmares, sometimes I can’t look at myself in the mirror. Sometimes I want to tear them off. But I have friends, and a wonderful boyfriend and thousands of people supporting me all over the words. Those bad days pass, slowly. They become less frequent. Yes, the road is long and I may never really, y’know, finish it, but that’s okay. Sometimes the destination isn’t the most important part of the journey. What matters is how you handle the road, how you become better, how you recognize the good in yourself. It helps to have people around you to help you. It’s okay to lean against them, borrow some of their strength - you’ll give it back, don’t worry. You’ll support them too when your time comes. You’ll give them something too.”

The interviewer is looking a bit teary-eyed but composes herself, and glances back at Tony.

“Yes, it seems like you gave Tony Stark something that he’s been missing,” she comments with a small smile.

Bucky shrugs, also glancing back at his boyfriend, radiant and beautiful and all his.

“I gave my boyfriend a pretty great gift,” he agrees. “He gave me a better one.”

**Author's Note:**

> apparently, i can't write dialogues for shit and am a sucker for descriptions. oops
> 
> let me know if you liked it, and maybe i'll add a bonus chapter of some of tony's pov of this whole mess


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